


Defying Odds

by Sci3ntific



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Neglect, Cure, Disease, Dragon Pox, F/M, Father Figures, Friendship, HarryXHermione, Hogwarts, Love, Neglect, Possible WBWL, Potions, Romance, Squib, Trauma, Werewolf, hhr, relationship, scientist!harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sci3ntific/pseuds/Sci3ntific
Summary: Harry Potter had more problems than he could count. Being neglected, a squib and insignificant to his twin brother, the Boy-Who-Lived, was only some of them. When a programme is started at Hogwarts, a school he had always wanted to attend as a student, his mentor signs him up, and when he arrives, he finds out, that once there is life - once there is love - there is hope. Hhr.Inspiration from the movie ‘The Theory of Everything’.Based and inspired off a famous line said by Stephen Hawking: “However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. Where there's life, there's hope.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter One

Inspiration from the movie 'The Theory of Everything'.

Based and inspired off a famous line said by Stephen Hawking:

"However bad life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at. Where there's life, there's hope."

Chapter One

James Potter was a master auror, he liked to believe that and his colleagues and trainers always said he was one of the best Aurors they had ever seen walk through the halls of the ministry and worked alongside in the battlefield. He was touched by their opinions of course, and his wife had mentioned profusely and amusedly that it only just helped to boost his ego. But with all that power came great responsibility and whenever there was a battle, he was called upon.

With the stress the Wizarding World was under and more so, Wizarding Britain, along with the political climate and dangers that lurked in the dark, there were a lot of battles that had fellow Aurors requesting his help on the battlefield. It was one of the down sides that came with being good at your job.

Another downside of being an auror was that the job was very demanding, and thus there were multiple instances where he'd be late for events and occasions he always wanted to experience and be at because he simply was at work.

The more the problems and dangers, the more time he had to be on his toes, helping wherever and whoever he could. Wizarding Britain had been a catastrophe almost over a decade, an almost decade full of so much fear, apprehension, and bloodshed – so he was late for more things he could imagine.

Lily had been so sympathetic and understanding and he was grateful for her every day of his life. During these nine months, he had done everything and anything he could to stay by her side, and to do whatever she wanted him to do whenever he wasn't working.

The only reason he hadn't taken a leave as yet was because of the constant need for assistance around Britain because of the feared Death Eaters and their ultimate leader Voldemort, who Wizarding Britain was so scared of, that they were rendered unable to say his name.

The man who was deemed the most powerful dark wizard of the age. James wasn't even sure that man was an actual man, for he didn't know how he could handle so much death and destruction on his hands.

James himself had to kill once before, as it was necessary and with that one life he took, even though that person was an evil bastard attempting to rape a poor woman, he had tons of sleepless nights, with his only comfort being Lily.

Today was just another day, and his ever-present assistance was called upon once again. It turned out to be a bad time though because as he was returning from his mission, he was greeted with the joyful news that his wife had gone into labour.

And now he was in the hospital, the magical hospital called St. Mungo's where most of every wizard and witch in Magical Britain came to treat injuries they couldn't themselves. His chest was heaving as he dodged patients and healers alike, trying his best to get to Lily's hospital room as fast as he could while pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

Two of his most treasured friends – best friends – Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were already there, both of them as equally anxious as he was, but yet terribly excited as they both would be godfathers at the end of the day. They weren't as excited as he was, for sure, because today was the day he would become a father.

He had prepared for this day for months, knowing that it was just a matter of time before he held his boys in his hand, but as he greeted his best friends with nervous smiles and big hugs, he could already feel the panic and fear flooding his stomach, releasing the butterflies hidden deep beneath and curling his stomach into uncomfortable knots.

He didn't like to boast as much as he used to, but he was rather connected with his magic. And because of his connection with his wife because of their love, and because of the vows they made on their wedding day, he could feel her magic and her emotions by extent. And with great anxiety, he could clearly understand that she was in pain.

The waiting room provided some entertainment at least, which helped his nerves to settle. They sat in the front row of several rows of about a dozen chairs and in front of them, on the wall was a Wizarding Wireless, which commentated the current game played at the International Wizard's World Cup, another event he had missed.

Sirius looked quite put out that he had missed the event as well, for he was one of the biggest Bulgarian fans James had ever seen. But both of them men knew what was more important and they stayed seated in their seats, their hands on James' back the only thing that prevented him from pacing.

The last few years of life had been some of the best of his life, and he could say without any hesitation that the reason was Lily. His lack of maturity before seventh year had cost him multiple chances to be with Lily and he was thankful that he had pulled his head out of his arse just in time to have Lily give him a second chance.

Their relationship had escalated quickly and he was more embarrassed about his past behaviour than he cared to admit to anyone other than Lily and his best friends. It wasn't long before he knew fully that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and he had proposed.

Quite obviously as she was now giving birth to his and her children, she had said yes. Many thought that it was too early, but they thought that it was justified. The Wizarding World was getting more and more in danger as everyday past and the constant fear of being murdered at any moment lurked at every corner of the day and every corner of an alley. The Dark Lord and his servants would not stop them from getting married and starting a family with each other.

James was a bit guilty though. For they were bringing their children into a world that wasn't fit for children to be brought up in. They had already made the decision that if things got too out of hand, where it seemed inevitable that the Dark Lord would take full control of Magical Britain and murder those who stood in their way, then they would move far away.

The Potters were some of the richest, most powerful Noble and Ancient families to ever grace magical soil, so quite obviously they had many properties dotted across the globe. They would escape there if it was necessary and bring Sirius, Remus and Peter with them.

Speaking of Peter, James hadn't seen another one of his best for a good portion of several months and he was starting to become worried. While the Marauders always stayed in touch because of the magical mirrors they had created, there was no way to be in contact with the other for a long time.

Sirius was living with his girlfriend Amelia Bones at the moment, a wonderful young woman they had gone to school with who shared the same passions that Sirius had, a reason they were so compatible with each other and shared the similar occupation of being an Auror.

If he was being honest, Amelia was excelling higher in the Ministry than Sirius was, for Amelia was more interested in the political side of things, while Sirius just wanted to vanquish dark wizards. The good thing was that Sirius didn't mind, he took great pride in being the boyfriend to a Head Auror and often spoke really high of her when he was around his colleagues.

Remus on the other hand lived on his own, he was too scared of himself and didn't want to take the risk of falling in love. The Marauders knew why of course and it was a secret they had kept to themselves for years. James personally felt, though, that Remus deserved a little happiness in his life – someone to put it there. He could only hope that the special girl – or boy if that was Remus' choice – would hop along and give it to him, quite figuratively as well.

"Mr. Potter, your – oh!" The door had opened and James was already standing. By the time the woman – Lily's personal nurse, Catherine Lesly, he reminded himself – had said the first few words, he was past her and into his wife's hospital room.

James took pride in being a tough Auror, you had to be tough if you wanted to beat Alastor Moody's auror training of course. But when he saw his boys in his gorgeous' wife's arms, the tears started to flow.

"Say Hello to your daddy," Lily cooed to the boy on the right as she passed him onto James after he sat next to her, hugging her tightly and pecking her forehead. "And Daddy," she said to her husband with a loving smile, "say hello to Edward Fleamont Potter and Harry James Potter."

Edward was the younger out of the twin brothers and he had his mother's hair and according to Lily, he had his hair. While on the other hand – literally – Harry had his messy black hair and according to Lily, he had her eyes. James knew that he couldn't predict the future, but he could already see that these two boys were going to change the world.

...

More than a decade was full of pain and misery, fear and collective anxiety and he took pride in being the single reason behind it all. He was the most powerful dark wizard to ever set foot in the magical world since his ancestor Salazar Slytherin himself, so obviously he would bring destruction that would make even some of the strongest Aurors fear even pronouncing his name. The name they thought would be their end, and end he wanted to bring to them – all of them who had dared to try and defy him and those who were blood traitors and mudbloods.

But there was something in the way now, more so, someone in the way and it took all of the Dark Lord's effort not to lose his composure when he reminded himself that the someone, was a mere child.

He had been angered at poor Severus Snape at first, the man had brought him important and vital information and the Dark Lord had crucified him, his thoughts about the damned subject he much so hated influencing his decisions. But Severus had kindly and obviously without choice provided him with the memory of the event, and the Dark Lord, using a stolen pensive from the Ministry, had witnessed the event for himself.

Despite his thoughts about the subject he, unfortunately, knew that prophecies were legitimate and there were many instances in the past and in the record books that he had read about that stated prophecies came through and listed real-life occurrences.

So the Dark Lord, the ever-feared Lord Voldemort, decided there that he wouldn't take any chances. And with some persuasion here, some threats there and few Cruciatus Curses, he had gotten all the information he needed to find and then hopefully – but in the Dark Lord's mind, obviously – defeat the boy who was prophesied to defeat him.

Wormtail would get his reward, albeit it would be a small one, for despite informing him about the address – betraying his friends in the process – he had done everything out of pure fear and not loyalty, and loyalty was what the Dark Lord wanted.

Lord Voldemort was feeling quite generous though as he walked into the yard, feeling a sense of satisfaction as all the defensive wards fell, for he was going to stop the only person that seemed to be able to defeat him. You could say because he was getting rid of the only person who could apparently stop him he could feel his destiny coming closer – so he, therefore, felt generous.

He passed the rocks surrounding the small cottage the runes drawn on them burning because they had been broken, the house was fairly comfortable and was a light colour of white with trims of red by the roof, a cottage that was obviously a Gryffindor's fancy, hence the cosiness and the red.

The door was blasted apart by the mere power of his blasting hex and he was in the house a moment later, met by a pair of angry hazel eyes. The Dark Lord had heard a lot of the man James Potter was. Excellent at Transfiguration and a natural at Defence Against the Dark Arts. His control of magic and his determination, along with his wife's brilliance was the reason the Dark Lord saw them as two individuals perfect to be his servants, but they had rejected him. It was their mistake.

"James, how are you on this fine Halloween night?" Lord Voldemort asked his voice more of a slithery hiss than it was of a normal man. Based on the interrogations he had held before and what he leant from striking fear in people, mixing Parseltongue into your normal speech, could be quite frightening.

He wanted James to be distracted, to show a hint of fear in his eyes.

But it was quite obvious that the Auror was a true Gryffindor because when Lord Voldemort looked into his eyes, all he saw was pure, uncontrolled rage and determination. He hadn't expected this to be easy anyway, for the man had proven to his Death Eaters, time and time again, that he was a truly powerful auror.

James' wand was the first to fire a spell. Judging from the anger etched onto his sweat laden face, and the colour of the spell that told him it was dark and an offensive one, the Dark Lord could tell that the man was going to give it his all. James Potter was not going to hold back. If the Dark Lord was honest, he'd say that he wouldn't hold back against himself either.

"Protego!" He had raised his shield just in time, James that is, for the Dark Lord had already blocked his severe cutting hex and had thrown back several of his own.

The battle had begun, between a father – a husband – protecting his family and a being out to murder one of the children upstairs. They were dancing around the living room, spells rocketing through the airs, the sound of their impact deafening as they dodged their opponent's spells.

The only thing on James' mind was protecting his family and the determination he had inside of him, was enough to allow him to power through, but it wasn't long before the Dark Lord got the upper hand, for his dark curses were unknown to James and had overpowered him.

The Dark Lord could already taste his victory, so he allowed himself a sense of arrogance as he fired the Killing Curse aimed at the head of James Potter, not looking back after the incantation left his lips – in a rare moment that the Dark Lord lapsed, he missed his mark and in a moment the auror slipped, he was rendered unconscious as his head hit the floor.

Severus had been of great help to him, and with the feeling of arrogance and graciousness in his mind, Lord Voldemort decided to spare the Mudblood as a reward for Severus for his efforts in bringing the news of the prophecy.

As the body of Lily Potter fell to the ground with a heavy thud after being stunned by the Dark Lord's hand, Lord Voldemort turned to the cradles decorated in the middle of the nursery. Blue walls, blue cradles and toys and books of all boyish sorts scattered the floor, alongside learning ads and baby clothing and the Dark Lord could clearly tell that two twin brothers occupied the room.

The defences the Potters had seemed to be endless and the Dark Lord heard the roar of something in the front of the yard and knew he didn't have all day. So without analysing anything he chose a baby and fired his second killing curse of the evening, already planning to reciprocate on the other baby.

But also for the second time that day – whether the Dark Lord knew it or not – he made a mistake and hadn't thought about any defences that would be there to protect the boys in their cradles. The spell backfired, it rebounded and he instead, was hit with the killing curse and the Dark Lord was vanquished.

...

"James!" He was awoken in a start by the call of his name and the sense of content and relief that washed over him was overwhelming as he spotted his wife over him with a worried Sirius and Dumbledore over her shoulder. Instantly – desperately – he pulled his wife into a hug but he broke it quickly to look closely at her, looking for any sign of injuries.

"Are you alright, Lily-flower?" He asked as he pressed his forehead to her. He didn't even want to imagine what his life would have been without her for a single second. That she was here – and in the presence of the Headmaster and their best friend too – told him that she was safe.

"I'm more than fine," she said as she hugged him. "He did it, James," she whispered into his ears, "Edward, James," she explained, "Voldemort chose him as his equal, and Edward's vanquished him!"

"Are you serious?" He asked.

"No, I am," Sirius rolled his eyes, James could see and almost hear the glee in his voice, the relief. If what was being said here was correct – which he assumed it was, for he believed in his wife's words – then Sirius would be able to finally have a child with his wife because the danger of Voldemort was no longer there – so of course, Sirius was overjoyed. "But, yes, we are serious. Your boy, James, he did it."

"Is he alright?" James asked as he was helped to his feet by his wife and best friend.

"Indeed he is, James," Dumbledore said. That Dumbledore was here looking happy and unconcerned about the threats of Voldemort said something. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was also the Head of the Order of the Phoenix, was very knowledgeable and James trusted and looked up to the professor a great deal, so that was the only other confirmation he needed to understand the Dark Lord was finally vanquished.

"With the exception of a scar," Dumbledore continued, his hands folded at the small of his back, the twinkle in his eye dwindling a little, "A lightning bolt scar that would make headlines tomorrow."

James chuckled incredulously as he hugged his wife and followed the other adults into the nursery, ignoring the warmness in his head where Lily had placed her charm to help him with the concussion he received from hitting his head.

Edward was in his hand a second later and the adults gathered around him as he threw his boy up and caught him back, Edward's giggles illuminating the room. No one remembered to check the other cradle though, that held a boy with green eyes and black spiky hair watching the scene with silent tears.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Mountains stood proudly in the background, the only objects that weren't covered in the cheery and peaceful glow of the afternoon sun as they provided him with a wonderful view. From his place on the large property, he could say that it was quite enlightening to be here.

The property was his father's, a manor belonging to his ancestors that was soon passed down generation after generation to his father and it was discreetly situated in the deep forests of Wales, where the heavy wards and powerful defensive and offensive enchantments placed around the house by the elves who considered themselves privileged to be given the opportunity, were the only thing that protected them from the wildness and dangers of the forestry that surrounded them.

He was on the fourth floor, a floor that was empty of sound, and empty of life besides his. His breath kept him company and the movement of his eyelids as they blinked, reminded him that this was not a dream he was experiencing.

The mind had ways of playing tricks on you, after all, he knew a lot about that despite his young age. And while he was thankful that he had been able to experience such a wonderful thing like the view outside, he wished that he was in the comfort of his room.

The thought that this would have been a bad idea had crossed his mind of course, for he had the special will to analyse every situation before he acted on it. But despite the cons, which seemed disastrous and a recipe for calamity, the thought of the pros had influenced his decision, and he had escaped the cover of his room.

There was a large portion of him that told him that he deserved it, for despite how many months he spent in his bedroom, he could understand and follow the calendar after a simple glance at it, and knew that today was a special day.

He had never been allowed to come out of his room during special occasions and for a long period of time – or at all! – but he felt quite rebellious on this particular day, and as he stood there, he knew that there was no turning back now, for the mansion was so large that he had lost his way back to his room.

He blamed himself for his lapse, for he was supposed to remember in order to retreat in case of emergencies – emergencies as in his parents finding him. He didn't exactly have another person to blame anyway. In fact, he hadn't met another person before, the only people he had ever seen being his mother and his father and his brother – but even then, their visits were irregular and really just not visits in the first place – for they were not there for him.

Their reason for showing themselves to him was lost to Harry, as they wouldn't even look at him, let alone speak or interact with him. It was odd for it was as though he hadn't been in the same room as they were.

Time after time they came, but time and time again, he was reminded that they would come for anything but him.

He wasn't sure they knew of him, he wasn't sure that they even knew that they had another son – and in his brother's case, a brother. He wasn't sure that they knew he was alive. Never had a word been uttered to him before from the mouth of his parents or his brother, never had a single distant glance pass his way, never had a smile been smiled in his direction.

And quite honestly, he thought that perhaps now he would have perhaps, gotten used to it. 'It', being the knowledge that he was unloved, that he was insignificant to his twin brother and that he would never be cared for.

But each day – each night as he laid in his bed in total darkness and silence, the only light being the flickering of lightning and the only sound being thunder, as a thunderstorm roared above him in the clouds beyond, the feeling of loneliness would always return as he was reminded of the fact that his parents would not be near him comforting him because of the fear he carried of the storm, the fact that they would never be near him for him to hold on to when he was scared – when he needed guidance.

Back then, the fears had slowly ebbed away. For he held the general idea that they were pointless to have when there was no one to comfort you. He knew it was best to face them for it was either he did that because he knew no one would help him, or he would wait, holding on to loose strings of hope that someone might help him.

He had made the right choice it seemed, for the thunderstorms were no longer a fear of his. He grew so unafraid and comfortable with rain, the coldness that came with it, that there were nights where he wished the rain would be his companion.

In some ways, it enlightened that he was alone, that the darkness of his room, would be the only shade of light he would experience. There was a window in his little room, of course – a simple, single one with decorative colour – black, he reminded himself – engraved into it showing a relatively unnecessary engraving of a pattern he did not understand.

The problem though, with this window, was the fact that it was situated on the third floor, where his room happened to be. What made this a problem, was that the walls of the properties that surrounded the manor as a defensive mechanism were five stories high.

If he stood close enough to the side of his room and tilted his head just a little to peek out of the window, he would be able to get a glimpse of an occasional cloud and the blue colour of the cloud.

The walls were so irritatingly gigantic, that he was constantly its shadow so there wasn't a time his room had been blessed with the early morning rays. He figured that his lack of experience with seeing beautiful things was what had attracted him to the view he was looking at now, and Merlin, how he loved it.

It took a lot out of him to tear his eyes away from the view, but when he did manage, he was venturing back downwards where he had come from – more specifically, he was venturing to the first floor, where there was a distinct sound of cheering.

His steps were quiet, the clipping and clapping of his little polished shoe on the wooden flooring as silent as it could be as he tried not to make a noise while hastily making his way down the stairs and towards the cheering and mumbling.

He slowed silently to a stop at the corner of an arc passageway inside of the manor, just before the large double oak doors he assumed to be the entrance and with great secrecy, he peeked his head inside.

It was weird of course, sneaking around a house that was your parents', but he hadn't considered what they would do if they found him snooping around. There was a part of him, that fancied the idea of having them know, therefore acknowledging his presence, a greedy dream he had spent nights thinking about since he was smaller.

But a different side of him argued, bringing reasonable instances into his awareness of the rather horrendous possibilities of what could happen if they found him.

A flash of bright light brought him back from his inner musings and he shuffled silently and slightly forward as he peered at the camera in the photographer's hand, just as the light was accompanied by a swift click.

He could see that his parent's photograph was being taken, along with his brother's. The elves of the family were sometimes kind to him, even though they sometimes paid him no mind beside delivering a small amount of food for breakfast and dinner, but there was one particular little elf that always helped him.

Denny would bring him all sorts of nice things, but more importantly, she would bring him books. From what he read and understood, his parents and his brother were very famous in the Wizarding World. His brother for defeating an infamous dark wizard who was relentlessly terrorizing their world, and his parents simply for being Edward's parents.

Obviously, large and popular news broadcasters, such as the Daily Prophet, would may dozens of Galleons to get their hands on those pictures, for his parents only allowed a fair few people into manor – at least, that was what Denny told him.

He wouldn't blame the photographers for being desperate. Besides, the cameras they held in their hands were very attractive in his perspective.

He turned his head towards his parents once more, his father was standing proudly and with a large grin as he placed his hands on Edward's shoulder, and his mother was sporting the largest, genuine, loving smile as she looked at her son, and the bump of her belly.

He closed his eyes, the feeling of loneliness returning in an instant as he remembered that his father would never be proud of him like the way he was proud of Edward, that his mother would never look at him the way she looked at his brother.

He didn't think about the sound he was making, he just ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He already didn't have a good vision for a reason he did not know, but as unfortunate as it was, it seemed to worsen as the tears started to well up in his eyes.

He didn't know where he was, but as he tried to clear his vision as he ran, he tripped.

His ears rang and he couldn't see anything but a blur in the distance that was the view he had been looking at earlier. It was beautiful. There were things in life that brought beauty, he just hadn't found his as yet.

…

The walls of the Manor were empty, and Lily smiled to herself as she walked slowly through them, her hands softly on her belly, hoping, as any other mother would, that the wonder inside of her would perhaps kick.

James and Edward were in the Quidditch Pitch outside in the back, having fun and celebrating his birthday because all of the guests had left, and they wanted some time to themselves. Father-son time James had explained with a proud huff and swell of his chest.

Her son shared a beautiful relationship with his father, and even though the to-be newest addition to the Potter family hadn't arrived as yet, she knew that little Rose Potter would love her father just as much.

The sun was almost set in the background of the mountains, and she frowned to herself as her hair flew backwards, she was on the windy side of the manor after all. Most definitely one of her favourite professors she had ever met, she knew Albus Dumbledore was a great man. James, along with almost everyone Dumbledore had spoken to, looked up to the man deemed the most powerful wizard, a great deal, and her opinion was no different. And today, the wizard in question had visited the Manor, to celebrate her Edward's birthday.

The birthday had finished and Albus explained that he wanted to speak with her and James, so of course, they secluded themselves from the children playing in the garden with Edward's new presents and listened to what the man had to say.

Dumbledore spoke extensively about the prophecy and explained to them once again, that the Dark Lord would return and that Edward would be the one to defeat him. They, of course, knew this but asked what he was saying. Turns out the Professor cared for their child more than they thought and explained that he wanted to protect Edward and try to ensure his safety and victory over Voldemort. But he wanted to do so, by giving him more magic.

They, as Edward's parents, obviously agreed to the motion, but then Dumbledore proceeded to tell them about who he wanted to get more magic from. Harry.

Her other son.

The one she had forgotten about.

The last memory she had of the little boy was… she still couldn't remember. Probably the night Voldemort was vanquished by Edward?

James had looked as put out as she had as Dumbledore left, planning to return the day after with the knowledge of the ritual, but hid it as Edward returned and asked to play Quidditch – Lily still thanked Merlin that they were playing a miniature version of the game and that the floor had cushioning charms.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned to side the corridor on the fourth floor, it was her responsibility to retrieve him and tell him about what was going to happen to him tomorrow, that his magic was going to be taken away from him.

She spotted something at the end of the corridor, a frame of someone's body and it was on the ground. She walked as fast as a sixth-month pregnant woman could and as she reached the frame she realised that she recognised the messy black hair.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Severus being summoned to the headmaster's office was something usual, for the headmaster seemed to always have need for him, as if he had wasn't doing enough already. But as he walked up the stairs past the gargoyle guard, and towards the headmaster's office, he could already understand that there was something different about his visit this time - at least something different with the objective Dumbledore would ask him to achieve.

He wasn't hesitant to say that he was quite angry and upset that Dumbledore was using him like this - to his advantage. But the vows he had made to the man had demanded him to do so, so Severus had no choice.

The Headmaster was in a pensive state when Severus finally arrived. Chin upheld by his intertwined hands, grey eyebrows furrowed, Severus had seen the headmaster like this multiple times.

It was as if he was seeing a different side to the headmaster as a professor of the school, rather than when he was a student. When he was a student, he wouldn't think that Dumbledore would be this distant at times, that he was always attentive - but his days as a professor and time with the headmaster had proved his thoughts to be incorrect.

His pet phoenix, something Severus was still amazed by, for there was only rumour that Dumbledore had one back in Severus' is school days, was chirping on his stool, having had its burning day just yesterday.

"You called me, headmaster?" He asked the professor. Dumbledore looked as though he hadn't been miles away as he turned to smile at him, but Severus knew better. Something was troubling the headmaster, but it wasn't Severus' place to ask - not that he wanted to, in the first place.

"Severus, good day. Have a seat, we have something to discuss." Dumbledore instructed. Severus swiftly took his seat in a tense fashion. The headmaster calling him - an employee - to his office and asking to have a discussion was never good, was it? After all, Dumbledore's words and Hogwarts itself was the only things that protected him from Azkaban and the Death Eaters who thought him a traitor.

"Don't be afraid, Severus," Dumbledore smiled warmly, "I just want you to read this." Dumbledore extended his hand and Severus' own soon had a rolled-up piece of parchment.

The Ministry of Magic of Britain

Has come to an agreement,

That there will be a programme held at

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,

Where a few students from the magical school

Will be given a deadline to create a potion that would be able

To cure the dangerous Dragon Pox, that is threatening the lives of the people

Of magical Britain.

Severus' eyebrows rose a little, it was odd of the Ministry to implement something so generous, but he figured that the newly-elected Minister, Cornelius Fudge wanted to show everyone that he was eligible for the role.

Severus knew of the dangerous disease that was taking the Wizarding World by storm, and even a few individuals from the muggle world who had interacted with the infected magicals, after all, it was just a few days ago that poor Professor Babbling had to return to her residence to be in an invoked quarantine because she had fallen ill with the disease.

Something amused him of the programme that the Ministry was setting up. They were so incompetent that they were relying on children - actual children - to solve their problems. Cornelius Fudge may not have been as competent as Severus had once thought.

If he had remembered properly, the record books of past students of Hogwarts, stated that he was a Hufflepuff and student comments told him that he deserved to be in Slytherin.

He rose his head from the parchment he had unfolded and looked at the headmaster who had that damned twinkle in his eye. "What are you proposing, Headmaster?" He asked.

"I will give you further details of the programme later," he announced in reply, "but for now, I want you to gather six of your best Potions students to compete in this tournament."

Severus titled his head a little, "Any student?" He asked slowly.

"Any. We have to do whatever it takes to end this disastrous disease." Dumbledore replied seriously. And Severus smiled to himself - actually smiled.

...

He hadn't come here often despite the invites sent his way, but he came once in a while to visit his best friend. That Lily had forgiven him, and James by extension, was an entire weight off his shoulders and he was extremely grateful for it. His and Lily's friendship had regrown and he and James' had begun.

It seemed that the Gryffindor he had always hated had really, actually changed his way. Remus Lupin was another man he could get along with, but he had extreme difficulty in holding a conversation with Sirius Black. The scars of his past, which would've become actual scars was it not for James, still haunted him.

The Potters had moved into a neighbourhood in a wealthy side of Britain, where their lovely wooden manor rested peacefully in the background, where everyone who past it, envied it.

He hadn't known the real reason they had moved but they had. He did have his speculations though, and that they moved because they wanted to send their children to Muggle School, was on the top of the list.

He entered the gate, he could feel the subtle enchantments around him assess his intentions, a charm that Lily had been brilliant by inventing, before allowing him permission to move forward.

He passed fountains and plush flower bushes and soon he was by their front door with a small secret smile, he wished that the Malfoy family would see this work of art that was the Potter's property - he wanted their face to hurt with the green their skin colour would definitely turn to.

He rapped on the door, it was midday and most likely all the children were out so he'd most likely be met by Lily or...

"Severus," James said as he opened the door. Severus noticed that he was wiping his hands on a kitchen towel he just threw on his shoulder, he was no doubt preparing lunch.

"Good day, James," Severus said as James opened the door further, a gesture telling him he should enter. The men shook hands just as Severus heard Lily's voice.

"James, darling, who is it?" Lily asked as she came into view. James didn't have to answer it seemed, as Lily had seen him, but the seeker still mumbled a 'Sev.'

"Severus, how are you?" She asked as she hugged him. Despite their built friendship, he still found hugs - even hers - a little uncomfortable, but made an exception for her - it was Lily after all.

A few minutes later, there was tea set on the table in the centre of three comfortable seats, each being occupied by the only people in the house - Edward and Rose Potter were both at their friend's house.

Severus gave them the parchment he had received from Dumbledore, detailing the information about the programme and watched carefully as they read it through. Whether or not they knew why he was here and showing them this, was lost to him, but they asked him anyway and he didn't mind answering - he was there for that after all.

"It is apparent that your children share Lily's knowledge and skill in Potions, and thankfully not James'." He allowed himself a smirk as James huffed, "And I'm here to ask two of them to be two of the six students that will be picked."

Lily smiled, "I'm delighted to hear," she said, "and while I consent more than you may think to Edward's participation, don't you think that Rose is a bit too young? She only knows the basics."

Composure was something that Severus Snape had to learn at an early age. For many reasons, it was something that he always liked about himself, but at that very moment, his mouth dropped open in shock.

While he knew that his apprentice suffered many things, not only at school but at his home, he didn't know that his parents had totally ignored and obviously, forgotten about him. He really wished Dumbledore didn't ask him for things like this.

…

King's Cross Station was somewhere he had never thought he'd be, and more so, Platform Nine and Three Quarters. There were people everywhere, clustered around their families as they prepared to say goodbye but yet, keeping a safe distance away from everyone else on the large platform, that was not of their family – because such a procedure was encouraged by the Ministry. Families were still wary of others despite the fact that there was a Ministry official on the other side of the platform that checked if you had Dragon Pox or not.

The scarlet red train stood proudly in the background of it all, the midday sun gracing it with its luscious sunrays as smoke came out from the top of the locomotive in small puffs. He found himself amazed by the sight and was glad that this was something he was able to witness.

Trolleys rolled on the floor, creating a little ratchet as some late families entered the platform using the magical wall that was the entrance of Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Even though he had just gone through that very same wall, he could hardly believe that it was like that. Growing up on basically his own, he had never seen any bout of magic, hardly a few really. The elves were powerful magical beings, but even they hardly ever used their magic other than apparating in and out of his room. So if there was any chance of some confirmation of an act of magic, he would instantly perk up.

That he was a seventeen year old and from a magical family and was so amazed by any display of magic, brought him some weird glances, especially because he was standing next to the most famous family in Magical Britain.

Some of those looks, he was sure, were because people were confused. There wasn't a person here that knew him, or that he even existed; so that he was here and a part of the Potter family, obviously surprised them.

The Potter family that they were used to, were smiling for photographs that would most definitely make the front page of the prophet tomorrow. He could almost already imagine the title: Edward Potter's Seventh Year At Hogwarts. Or perhaps: Sister of the Boy-Who-Lived Starts Hogwarts.

The swift click of the camera had him looking that way, luckily he was out of the frame and the cameramen wouldn't be angry with him for being in the Potter's family picture. He wasn't sure himself that he was a part of the Potter family, so he didn't think they'd think that as well.

His gaze wandered to the interesting device the cameramen held in their hands, their cameras. It had been one of the most wanted things in his life, he always fancied having one, but of course, couldn't have one. He wasn't sure whether his parents would pay attention to him enough to have him ask them for one, nor could he purchase one for himself, for he hadn't any money despite his small allowance that he used for school.

Being here wasn't his idea in the first place, it had been his decision that got him here, but it wasn't his idea. And not for the first time in his life, he regretted the choices he made.

Nervousness slowly etched his way into his mind as he tried not to look at everyone who was looking at him. Without looking at them, he already knew that they were staring at him with confused or disgusted looks. Just like everybody else had.

It wasn't his fault that he had this disease, not primarily at least. He stumbled forward a little as he walked towards the compartment entrance of the train, his parents wouldn't even remember to tell him goodbye, so there was no point in waiting for them.

He glanced at the archway that was the exit the Hogwarts Express would soon be passing through, the sun was a beautiful star in the morning sky shining over the tall buildings of London, and he really wished he had a camera.

He stumbled once more, he couldn't help it, and he bit his bottom lip as he dodged the few stares his constant mistake had attracted to him. The disease he unfortunately had was what initiated these stumbles, these clumsy acts of mistakes and he was helpless to conquer the effects.

The closer he went towards the entrance of the train, the little steps that would help him into it, the more he got nervous. For climbing stairs was something that was another side effect of having this disease. Twice just this year he had tumbled down the stairs. On both occasions no one had helped him, he reminded himself. And he was sure that this time, it would be the same.

He glanced around him, no one was really looking at him, he was of no interest as usual, and for once, his brother's fame was helping him, by distracting everyone.

"Hurry up!" A voice drawled loudly from behind him and he jumped with nervously gritted teeth as he turned around. His brother's popularity apparently not attracting everyone. For there was a line of people behind him, each looking as impatient as the last. Harry figured that these sets of people, who looked to be around sixteen or seventeen, were people who must have seen the scene and his brother thousands of times, so... you could say his brother was stale in their eyes.

"Right, of course. I apologise." He muttered with a slightly bowed head. Just in his eyesight, he could see that the blond next to him was tapping his foot as an impatient gesture.

He turned back to the small staircase, feeling the pressure for such a simple act as this. And he held tightly onto the railings on either side of the steps and took his first step. And promptly fell.

The laughter started soon after. Hilarious, outrageous laughter that was all directed at him, and he could do nothing to prevent it. Everyone's attention was now on him, the direct opposite of what he wanted – even his parents were looking at him.

His mother and father were frowning with a weird look in their eyes and his brother was shaking his head, taking a deep breath while his sister looked sympathetically at him. He didn't need their pity.

The students paid him no mind as they walked over his feet, sending him looks of disgust and despise as the others ignored his very presence, he had expected something like this to happen of course. But the feeling in his chest, the aching thought of loneliness that would breach him because of his act of stupidity, made him feel terrible – despite how much he had tried to prepare for it.

A hand was soon in his line of vision and for a feeling moment, he had the incredulous thought that either his parents or brother was helping him, that they were perhaps so dumb that they were helping him in public and risking their public reputation. The thought that they were doing this just for the cameramen to take out a picture, electing love because they helped him from people who would see the picture on the front page of the prophet, was easier to think about than them willingly helping him.

But then, he looked up to the hand and then further upwards to see the hand's owner, and found that it belonged neither to his brother nor his parents, it wasn't even his sister who was trying to help him, who he thought was under orders not to speak to him.

The person was a complete stranger to Harry. Tall and muscular, Harry could guess he was in seventh year and his house's Quidditch team, he had dark blue eyes that were highlighted by his smooth black hair that framed his face as it fell down in a bit of a sideways fringe. Defined cheek muscles, strong jawline, this was definitely not someone Harry would pick a fight with.

"All right there, mate?" He asked, his accent pure British, a hint of Scottish. The suit he wore told Harry that he should have expected a posh, professional accent anyway.

A nod was Harry's next action as he studied the patient hand in front of him, wondering why such a guy like him – why anyone – would want to help him. "Just a little trip," he explained briefly, it wasn't entirely incorrect.

The guy smiled, firm dimples in his somehow shallow but meaty cheeks, and Harry grabbed the hand whose owner soon pulled him up with great strength. He was half an inch taller than him, and while Harry was reasonably fit this guy seemed to make him feel incredibly skinny.

"New around here?" Asked the guy, "Haven't seen a lad like you here before."

"Err, yes, I'm here for the programme," he explained as he ducked his head, a gesture he couldn't stop, there were many instances where his body would act on his own, or choose not to act on his accord – another effect of the disease, "The one about the dragon pox." He further explained.

"Ah!" He replied as he stepped aside next to Harry, as another fleet of giggling and sniggering students shuffled into the train – he loathed being their form of amusement. "Old Professor Snape didn't pick me, bit miffed about that."

His head twitched a little, earning an intrigued glance from the individual beside him. "I'm terribly sorry for that," he offered.

The boy beside him grinned and waved his hand dismissively, "There's nothing to worry about," he explained with a chuckle, "N.E.W.T's are this year, have to study for that. I guess one of the reasons I wanted Professor Snape to pick me was to have another year to study for the N.E.W.T's. I hear that one of the benefits the participants have – the ones that have important exams – is that they'll have the amount of time they spent on the programme given back to them to study for their N.E.W.T's - because they're helping the Wizarding World and all."

Harry nodded in agreement. Even though he wasn't a student here and was never going to be, the parchment Professor Snape had given him had detailed everything about the programme.

"Name's Warner by the way," the boy explained, "Christopher Warner, seventh year Gryffindor." He held out his hand. Harry could see in the distance that his brother's eyes had narrowed as he hugged their mother one last time.

Harry looked at the outheld hand, this time his hand was pointed to him for a reason different than the time before. It was a handshake for at least, acquaintanceship. But then he looked at his brother, the narrowed eyes aimed at the boy in front of him, and he wondered why his brother's expression was such when looking at Christopher.

But he didn't care, for this person in front of him was the person who had helped him, who had spoken to him unlike everybody else and didn't run away when his body acted weirdly because of his disease. More so, the boy had offered his hand in an agreement of being something more than people who just knew each other.

His hands firmly shook his and for the first time in his life, Harry Potter was experiencing something weird called friendship.

…

There was a loud lengthened hoot from the locomotive and Harry wondered if they were already here. The sun had set a few minutes ago somewhere in the distance, but he didn't think the all so expectant train ride would be that short – maybe they were faster this year – his year. The thought they would do something as special like that for him of all people, made him internally snort.

The ride was reasonably pleasant – more even. It wonderfully tuned out that he and Christopher had more than a little in common. Neither of them had friends before each other – Harry was still extremely happy that he finally had a friend – and while his parents neglected him, Christopher's had died in the last Wizarding Blood War of Britain.

Besides that and sharing a few of their likes and discussing some of the subjects that Hogwarts offered – a topic that always interested Harry – they didn't say that much.

The length of their conversations was reasonably short – yet not too much, and were informative. But an awkward one that was asked to Harry, was who his parents were. Of course, Harry hadn't told Christopher about the treatment he had received, he never told anyone really, but he made the mistake of also not saying who his parents were, he hadn't even told Christopher his name, which was weird.

He didn't know if it was considered good luck or not, but there was a knock on the door. He bit his lip, but didn't look at the door, of course, no one would want to speak to him, they would probably be speaking to the boy opposite him, who was reading a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Potter?" He hadn't told Christopher his name as yet, as the conversation had never been held, so he was obviously quite a bit startled when his name was called by Christopher. What was more surprising was the defensive tone he spoke in. Harry was sure he hadn't done anything to make Christopher defensive.

He turned as his jaw clenched, another action he couldn't stop, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of his brother standing impatiently at the door, looking around him – of course, wanting no one to see him with him, Harry reasoned.

He wouldn't want to be seen with himself either sometimes.

He took in his brother's expression, a mixture of impatience and anger. He then turned to his friend, whose expression was a mixture of confusion and defensiveness, and Harry was internally shocked to see a hint of fear - of all things - in his eyes. Why was there fear in his eyes – especially when looking at his brother?

Several swift and hard raps later, Harry could tell his brother was getting frustrated and with a heavy sigh, he reluctantly opened the door and was immediately pressed against the wall by his angered twin.

His little brother. He was the bigger one out of the twin brothers and yet, he was being manhandled and bullied by the sibling who was younger than him. Trying to get away or move – or even show some sort of strength and rebellion would be difficult for he would get his arse handed to him he was sure.

He was reasonably fit, as he couldn't gain much weight because of his lack of food at times, but because of his disease, fighting would be a big mistake. And he wasn't one for big mistakes.

He tried not to show his weakness as his jaw clenched and his teeth gritted, below him, he could feel incredible pain in his chest as Edward's elbows pressed harshly into it.

"Potter, let him go, will you?" He knew his new friend's voice despite their short time together and when he caught his eye, he could see anger and determination, unlike the expression he had held a few moments ago. There was the tiniest hint of fear in his eyes though, but Harry still couldn't understand Christopher's reason for fear - and more so, why he was scared of Edward.

There was something surrounding him, and it wasn't only the bystanders whose attention they had gained, it was magic and he knew, as he watched interestingly at the shaking wand in Christopher's shaking hand, that something dangerous could start.

His friend was defending him. Never once before had he been defended whenever the bullies had taken their fists out. There was even a duration of secondary school where he would be expecting – and welcoming – the punches and the kicks. There was nothing he could do after all, as he couldn't fight, he couldn't complain, no one would listen to him in the first place.

Not that he expected it, but his parents hadn't done anything. When he had the privilege to garner and gain his parent's attention after returning from a particularly difficult day at school, and they saw him with his bruises and limps, and in the crutches, the school's nurse had given him three times thus far, they just ignored it – ignored him.

"Stay out of this, you bloody Dark Wizard!" Edward yelled, a vein pulsing on his forehead right beside the ever-present, never hidden lightning bolt scar that the whole of the Wizarding World was interested in.

Edward's words seemed to have stuck something inside of Christopher, and with the experience he had in fights – being the one being bet up, of course – he knew that this was the look that started one.

"Christopher, it's fine." He said and watched as Christopher gave him a nod, gave Edward a hard scowl, and returned to the compartment, looking terribly upset.

...

They were in a compartment on their own and he made a point of not looking at his brother as he stumbled into the seat of the comfortable chair the train provided. What was weird and awkward was that this was the longest he and his brother had been together alone.

He heard his brother sigh and his head titled as he turned to face him. "Listen, Harry, I understand you're new at Hogwarts. But it's best that you don't mingle with the wrong sort."

He shifted nervously in his seat, his little brother was warning him about his first friend. His little brother, he was again once again, under graded, treated like he was soft and unable to look after himself because of his disease.

What angered him even further was that his brother clearly had the idea that he was going to take this as an order, that he would drop his friend because he said so.

Harry stilled, and definitely not for the first time, he felt extreme, uncontrolled anger towards his family. Did they not want him to have friends at all? He finally had a friend, he was finally interacting and socialising with someone and not entirely keeping to himself and now he was expected to leave said friend? Did they just want him to be by himself? To be alone for the rest of his life?

From what he experienced and understood, they did want that – at least his brother more than anyone else.

He had enough of this. He had a friend, and he wasn't going to give up on him. Mustering all the courage he could, he spoke harshly to his brother, "No, Edward – little brother – you listen – Christopher's my friend. And – and I'm not going to stop being his friend because you said so!"

"Warner's a werewolf!" Edward retorted loudly. Loud and scary enough to have Harry step back a little. "All werewolves are dark wizards Harry, you know that."

"And – and what about Uncle Remus?" Harry asked. Remus Lupin, he knew, was a werewolf, and he called the man by the right title despite the man having forgotten about him – just as everybody else had. He knew that he had said the right thing, even before he had said it because Remus was Edward's godfather and the two shared a deep relationship – as deep as godson and godfather could go.

Sirius Black had been his own godfather, but just like everybody else, he had forgotten about Harry and all his affections and joy was shared with Edward.

What startled Harry, was the fact that Christopher was a werewolf. Of course, he wasn't sure if Edward was speaking the truth or if it was just a random excuse to have him not have friends, but if he was a werewolf, Harry still wouldn't stop being his friend.

He was a great guy, Harry could already tell, and his first friend. It couldn't be that he was wanting to be his friend because he was Edward's brother, because not only did it seem that there was undisguised beef between the two, but Christopher didn't even know he was a Potter.

Edward's eyes narrowed at Harry, but Harry stood as tall as he could without stumbling. "I'm telling you, Harry, he's different. He doesn't have any friends because everyone's scared of him. When he was in second year, he unleashed on everyone – it was Halloween and he was apparently 'in the mood.'"

"Unleashed?" Harry questioned.

"Well, he didn't go wolfy, because it wasn't a full moon," Edward tried to clarify in a nervous tone, "It was close to a full moon though and –"

"Exactly," Harry emphasised, "It was near a full moon – Uncle Remus snaps on you – of all people – sometimes when it's close to a full moon!"

Edward sighed and Harry stumbled as the train started to slow down a little, "Listen – trust me..."

"I'm not, Edward, I don't trust anyone in this family, you've proven to me - all of you - time and time again that I can't trust you." Harry sighed and he stumbled forward as he pushed past his brother, his head a bit tilted.

"I guess he's told you then?" Christopher chuckled humourously as Harry entered the compartment and shut the door behind him. "I can explain."

Harry offered a tight smile. "You don't have to – well, just don't think that - I'll perhaps stop being your friend. I'd like to know how though."

Harry always thought Halloweens were bad for him. It was the night Voldemort had come and had made his life a miserable hell, after all. But when he listened to Christopher's story, his own sounded so much less terrible.

It was apparent that there was something large and destructive that was going to occur to the Wizarding World on Halloween 1981, but it was more serious than Harry had first thought. Many families had been targeted that unfortunate night and one of the unlucky ones, had been Christopher's. And by werewolves no less.

His parents murdered, him bit, he was grown up by an aunt who passed away not too long ago – a day that had been the night he 'unleashed' on everyone as Edward had put it.

Christopher's confession had triggered his own, and everything spilled from him. He was a neglected and ignored squib, and Christopher was a judged and friendless werewolf. And now, they were friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
